Summer Days
by EleanorKate
Summary: Peter & Chummy take a camping trip and manage to get themselves in all kinds of knots NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Now there was a sight for sore eyes if ever there was one.

Peter leant on the doorframe to the kitchen after what had been a long, _excruciatingly_ long and very hot summer's day of tramping around Poplar losing pounds in a heavy uniform. How he was looking forward to coming home, off within his tunic, into a pair of shorts and enjoying the long evening sitting in the newly whitewashed yard with his wife. That and an ice cold beer from the fridge and he would be a content man again, free of the rigors of the day now for an entire week.

Still what he saw when he walked into the kitchen made him rather buoyant as well as the thought of that first sip as it quenched his thirst.

It was the fact that she _wiggled_ her way out from underneath the sink where she had been on her knees cleaning that did it as he watched her hips sway from side to side. He also quite liked the light dress she had on too – tiny white and yellow daisies on navy blue fabric – as it sat rather quite perfectly on her rear end. Peter had decided he'd liked it even when it was in pieces on their kitchen table, thinking the pattern quite adventurous for her, but it looked even better on and he had no complaints.

If he whistled she would probably bang her head though. If he crept up on her, likewise; so he decided to stay where he was until he was convinced she would be safe from some kind of self-injurious behaviour. Still not that the decision grated on him at all as he admired the view.

A minute later, having not heard him, Chummy stood up with a sigh, using the worktop for support to get herself to her feet. She was getting too old for crawling around on floors and her back knew it too.

She turned around to find him standing there, arms folded across his chest with a look on his face she had come to recognise as these last nine months of marriage had unfolded.

"Peter!" she exclaimed seeing him, resting her hand on her heart. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long enough" he muttered walking across to her, sliding his hand over her jaw suddenly starting to kiss her like he had not seen her in twelve years rather than twelve hours. She didn't want to touch his face; her hands were covered in bleach and they hovered by her sides, resisting just folding her arms around his neck and to Hell with it. Peter took a step forward and she felt the edge of the worktop stab her in the back as she was forced by his movement to take a pace too.

"Peter" she mumbled, losing the kiss as he drifted down her jaw. _'Evil man' _she thought_ 'and if you don't stop that your dinner is going to burn'._

"Peter! Stop it!" she whispered, eyes closing keenly belying what was sprinting around in her head.

"I've been thinking about you all the way home" he began, lips pulling at her earlobe for a second, hands clasped to her waist. pressing every inch of him closer to her. "I almost came home at lunchtime too". His logic had been simple - just for a little bit of home comfort as he knew she would be there, as you see, she had today off and by the time lunch arrived, he was starting to lose patience with the people of Poplar.

This was the first day of a week off in fact and at, well now in fact, he was off for that week too. Her stomach clenched at the thought that she could have had a visitor earlier on today, still not entirely able to understand why exactly he would even think of coming back home in the middle of the day just to take her to bed. Long ago she had realised not to question though, just enjoy. She'd struck lucky if she compared to the stories and moans she heard every day from the women in clinic and never wanted it to stop.

"Quiet day then?" she laughed, her bleach covered hands leaning on the worktop.

"No" he mumbled, lips still attached to her neck. "Horrible, busy, too many people drunk in the heat and fighting with each other, kids swimming in the canal almost drowning each other, everyone seemed to be out on the streets shouting and just…._existing._ Horrible". That was a fair summation of his day. He wasn't the best fan of hot weather, but hot weather under a Police uniform and helmet did nothing for his temper and she could feel the frustration with his day spilling from him.

His hand went her breast, cupping it through the material, thumb turning circles and he felt her shoulders drop, exhaling against her better nature as her body just decided to temporarily enjoy the attention. A moment later he found the buttons on her dress. Just touching her skin would be rather perfect, but before he made it past two she seemed to come to her senses and slapped his hand, harder than she perhaps intended. She could also smell the chicken pie she had made and didn't want it to be charred.

"Ow Camilla…" he said. Best hurt voice, my friend. She might change her mind. Perhaps she would kiss it better as his hand was now stinging.

"Do you want your dinner burnt or do you want me?" she asked, trying to ignore that wide eyed look he was giving her. Peter pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, pretending to think long and hard about his decision – whether his stomach would win or not - breathing in the rather pleasant odour that was pervading from the cooker.

She just tutted at him and turned away to the stove, padding her hands dry and doing up her buttons. "Go and get changed and I'll let you know when everything's ready".

Feeling a thousand times better after a refreshing wash, and now in shorts and a light shirt, Peter made his way back downstairs.

"I thought we might eat outside" she offered. The back door was open and on walking out, he found two chairs and a fold out table waiting for him. Now that was an excellent idea. The sun was around the front of the house and the yard was cool yet bright and behind him he heard her voice.

"Peter? Can you carry this?"

He turned back to find a jug of orange juice, topped up with ice cubes and two glasses by its side on the worktop waiting for him. Peter picked them up and walked outside, setting them on the table pouring from the jug as ice cubes splashed in. He sat and for the first time today, felt as though he could breathe properly as he stretched his legs out. He hadn't bothered with shoes; bare feet on cool stones was much better and as she walked out of the kitchen, plates in hand, he noticed she had not bothered with stockings today and was just in sandals. Why he had to notice that now and not when he was making his decision between her and his dinner, he would never know.

They ate and talked about the day, topping it all off with Neapolitan ice cream with her wafer shoved into his so he had two.

Peter felt some of the annoyances he had encountered with the people of Poplar leech away as she just listened to him. That was one of the reasons he loved her; she'd just let him talk and get things out of his system.

"So how was your day?" he asked as they sat side by side again, holding hands resting on the chair arms. The dishes were in the sink and he told her they could wait.

"I think I've cleaned from top to bottom, ironed, repaired your pyjamas, done the shopping, changed the bed, hoovered the front room and washed the lino, repaired three pairs of stockings, polished your other work boots….". She could have gone on for a few minutes longer but she could see he was smiling at her. "What?"

"I think" he began, flexing his fingers around hers. "That as we have a week off, instead of here and you spending the next week cleaning, we should have a few days somewhere else. Have a proper holiday". The last time they had been anywhere was Ramsgate.

Chummy smiled. "Where?"

"I was thinking of us going camping" he offered. Peter had been toying with the idea of going _somewhere_ with her but it had been camping that struck him on the walk to work this morning.

"Camping?" she asked, really quite pleasantly surprised he thought of it at all; let alone doing something different like that.

"Yes" he replied, sitting up so he could look at her. "A few days in the open, breathing clean air, sleeping in a field, surrounded by cowpats and it raining on you constantly so much the tent leaks. What more romance could a husband offer his wife?"

She smiled again. "Do you know I think that's a good idea". She hadn't been camping in years. School took them last time up to the Lake District. Mater would have been confounded if she had found out her daughter had been sleeping on the bare ground and wading knee high into muddy lakes in her smalls. She had loved it though and the thought was rather pleasing.

"There's a campsite a few miles from my uncle's farm". Peter had planned it out in his head already. "We could borrow Mum and Dad's neighbours car to take us down. It's an awful bus journey from the station".

Chummy knew that his parent's next door neighbour had just come out of Hospital after his hernia operation herself. She had been doing some of his District Nursing visits and he did mention he was worrying about the car sitting around and its battery going flat.

"I er.." Peter started. "I asked Jim's missus when I saw her in the market this morning she said it was fine to give it a run out for him", Peter offered, wondering how she might take it that he had spoken before she even knew about it.

"That sounds perfect" Chummy said settling back down again and closing her eyes, stretching her neck and shoulders out as the sun hard started to creep around so she was sitting in a patch of rather pleasant sunlight. She didn't care that he'd already clearly arranged it. They had nothing particular planned and he was right; she didn't fancy spending the week on housework.

"Mum and Dad should still have their tent and everything we need" Peter considered. "It'll all be in their attic".

"We could go and get it all tomorrow morning. See Jim as well" Chummy replied, still getting herself comfortable, shifting her shoulders and breathing in the air. "He's due another District Nursing visit at ten tomorrow with Cynthia so he will be in and then leave straight from there?"

Peter turned on his side too. "We can do that". She smiled; her eyes still closed as the warmth from the sun drifted over her face, soothing her. She had been that busy today, a cup of tea outside was the only luxury she had afforded herself all day but this was just perfect as the rays caressed her skin and she began to relax.

Peter smiled too, suddenly remembering a conversation they had when she was making the dress; one hand wanting to reach across and just undo one or two of those buttons again.

_"__Peter do you think it's too tight at the waist? Should I let it out?" she had said, parading in front of him in their living room.  
_

He didn't really know to be truthful. Haberdashery was never thing; he just liked the way it looked on her as it was and he didn't think it needed meddling with.

"Don't you dare Mister!" she said, not even opening her eyes to him. Leaning over her he had bodily obstructed her ray of sunlight and her world had suddenly been plunged into darkness.

He sat back, closing his eyes. She could almost feel the discontent.

"Peter?" she asked quietly. She'd opened her eyes now and turned on her side too look at him, realising that was twice now she'd told him get off her and she was feeling guilty about it. She took his hand and kissed his knuckles. "We have to put some food together tonight then and pack a suitcase. Why don't we do that and then third times a charm?"

She saw the edge of his mouth twitch and one eye open. "We do need an early night after all if we are going to be up early and I'm going to have to drive all the way down to Kent".

"That's true" Chummy smiled. "Even if it will be such a hardship to be in bed whilst its still daylight..." He could hear the sarcasm in her voice.

"Completely" he replied, standing up and hold his hand out to her. "Such a bind really when you think about it".


	2. Chapter 2

Chummy laid two holdalls out on the bed, thinking they might perhaps carry more and be less formal than a suitcase for a campsite.

Casual shirts, t shirts and shorts for him, culottes and light blouses for her, two summer dresses and did she really need stockings? They were hardly going to be sleeping on duck down or even a mattress if she was truthful so they went back in the drawer. Sandals for both of them, plimsolls for him and she knew he hated wearing socks in the hot weather but she put a few pairs in just in case.

She folded up clean pyjamas for them both and would put a cardigan each in too, just in case as well. Undershorts for him and knickers for her and she thought she was done. Soap, towels, shampoo, a brush and comb had been retrieved from the bathroom cupboards and were laid out on the bed. Was that it? It was not as though they were going to a fancy hotel but past experience told her that she always forgot _something _she would end up needing.

Chummy hoped his parents had sleeping bags and ground sheets as she heard his feet bounce up the stairs and Peter appear inside the bedroom door.

He looked at the wardrobe spread out on the bed, noticing there was one important item missing.

"Swimming costume?" he suggested, standing on the other side of her. The campsite he was thinking of had a river and lake, well more a very large pond, nearby that he had swum around in as a kid and he was quite looking forward to a dip if the weather kept going the way it was.

"You know you have never seen me in a swimming costume, Peter. I don't even own one". Whilst she might have come to terms with her height years ago, bathing costumes were still a certified 'no' and she genuinely had not possessed one since she had been forced into one that never fitted properly for sports lessons at school.

"Shame" Peter muttered, sitting sideways on the bed, picking up one of his plimsolls and fiddling with the laces. Twisted. He'd have to re-lace them as soon as they got there as that would never do.

"Do you think that's all we'll need?" she asked him, having wracked her brain to think of anything else. Food she would take from the cupboards first thing in the morning.

"I think so" he smiled, eyes wandering over the bed again, watching her as she carefully packed the holdalls, neatly and all in order as he liked it. Some of his neatness, it seemed, was rubbing off on his wife.

Peter knew his parents would have everything else they required and as his father was that organised too he would be able to put his finger on the camping equipment in seconds. "It's not the Ritz after all" he said, passing her his last plimsoll to go in. Chummy smiled.

"I think we should take my camera too" he offered, reaching into his bedside table and pulling out the black case.

"Do you mean to take photographs of more than just the yard or random parts of the house?" she asked, teasing him as he had become rather excited by his new toy.

"I was testing it" he protested, handing it over so it could be put into one of the bags. "No. To take photographs of you. There's still plenty on the reel". He also had a spare film in the case if needs be. The countryside around there was spectacular too.

Chummy laughed but did not respond. She'd never been comfortable with photographs; sitting rigid at school every year and standing at the back if she could. She had dodged him far too many time already when he had crept up on her to take her picture.

Once the bed was free of clothing, Peter put his legs up stretching his back, closing his eyes and placing his arms behind his head. He sighed. _Loudly._

"Was today really that bad?" Chummy asked; her voice sympathetic as she zipped the bags up. She had done the same thing some days herself, needing to stretch out every muscle and sinew she possessed to force a rather stressful day away.

He crumpled his nose. "I think that sometimes people just like being difficult". Peter heard her put the holdalls against the wall so they could pick them up tomorrow on the way out.

She smiled at the comment and sat down, crossways across the bed, turning down the hem of his shirt that had ridden up when he lay down. Chummy rested a hand on his belly.

"I think" she started, "they don't realise all you are doing is your job. You'd rather be sitting in the yard with a beer in your hand than tramping around Poplar having to deal with them too".

He smiled, still with his eyes closed. He knew she would know how he felt. "I shouldn't take it out on you though".

Chummy was confused, lining up the buttons on his shirt, not entirely sure what he was driving it. "You didn't. Haven't even" she replied. He'd not raised his voice let alone laid a finger on her in anger, even though day to day with any other man she might have run that risk for slapping his hands away.

"No I mean jumping on you like I did", Peter said. "All I was thinking of was getting in the house and just…_having you _and…." He drifted off, feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself thinking she might have felt compromised.

Peter however had been perfectly within his rights to do exactly that and, well, it was all wholly legal if he wanted to and she could do nothing about it and he certainly did not need her consent. Countless times he had seen it, women aggressively violated by their husbands, but every time even when one had been brave enough to come to the Police, all he ever could do was shrug his shoulders and tell them if they were married, force was legal and that was that. Above it all, he didn't want to see the same look on his wife's face as he saw on those women and that's what made him stop.

"I'd rather you tried to accost me that way than wallop me because you'd had a bad day". She was quite firm about that, thank you very much. He wasn't a violent man and he understood her, fundamentally 'got' what went on her mind so she knew she would never have to worry of she said 'no' once every so often. She'd noticed thought these last few months as they had grown closer, learned about each other, that he always had a habit of apologising for his thoughts and feelings; like it wasn't allowed to tell her these things that ran through his mind.

He sighed again. "Peter, don't worry about it. I understand, besides I promised you third times a charm and I mean it".

Peter laughed, belly bumping up and down under her hand. She leant down and kissed him firmly. "You know you can always come home to me. I won't go anywhere" she said. He felt the top button on his shorts go and unravelled his arms to reach for her.

"No", Chummy said, pushing his closest arm back. "Just stay there".

Not frightened any more of what his or her body could do, she had no hesitation now in just touching him or perhaps feeling that she could and was getting it right as she popped the rest of the buttons. This was, and had always been, just for them. None of the girls knew what they had been up to before they married as that was a secret she intended to keep; it was nobody's business what went on between them behind closed doors, finally finding someone with whom they could explore their thoughts and feelings after years of being alone. Neither would laugh at each other, just with.

It had been strange; neither of them were the life and soul of the party, quiet, subdued pair that they were, but this, whatever _this_ was, had always been beyond words. She didn't have to be miserable if she didn't want to be, pleasing him being her only goal. Not that she didn't want to do that, but as a woman she existed too.

She pushed aside the blue boxer shorts he was wearing and took him in her hands.

"Peter?" she asked quietly.

"Hmm…?"

"Were you really thinking of me all day?" It had been 9 months since they married and she had thought the day might come that the shine went off.

"You're home to me Camilla", he began, not wanting to open his eyes or even to be truthful converse with anyone at all, as all he could think about was her hands, soft, silky skin. "As long as you are here, or wherever we go, if you're there then I don't care where I am".

Chummy smiled and swallowed back tears that immediately threatened, glad he was lying there with his eyes closed. If not, if he was looking at her she would cry and ruin it all. He did really love her.

Ever so gently she let him grow in her hands, smoothing her palms up and down, hearing him breathing steadily as he relaxed into the sensations she seemed to be creating. Nothing needed to be said as she just listened to his breathing as it would pick up and drop as she changed rhythm and back again, trying to ignore the want that was creeping into her mind.

She'd never been brave enough to use her mouth on him. She knew people might do that but it never got mentioned beyond behind hands and inferred comments and to be honest it was all a bit unorthodox she felt. He might think it peculiar or immoral of her that she had even wondered what that might be like.

Attitudes around her made her think they, as a couple, seemed to be different as she actually quite enjoyed this whole business; pleased she had taken her chances before they were married and happy she had decided to take that step and found a loving man in the process. Her husband actually seemed to care about her, not just love her she felt. Camilla Browne never conformed to what people expected of her in her daily life so why should her marriage be the same way?

Chummy made herself more comfortable and felt his right hand creep up her thigh underneath her dress. His fingertips rested on the tempting skin at the top of her suspenders, wanting to touch her, but too engulfed in what she was doing elsewhere to concentrate. She'd allow him that modicum of contact for now.

Peter had his eyes closed still, head pressed back into the pillow and she could feel his grip on her thigh getting tighter and tighter as each stroke passed. She blew warm breathe over him, wondering for a moment, after she had done it if it was wrong. The fact that it induced a rather sharp intake of breath in him told her it must have been alright so she did it again and he let out a strangled laugh.

"You're a wicked woman". How she had noticed in time that his voice seemed to drop an octave or two in moments like this.

"Like me to stop?" she teased, flirted even.

Peter opened his eyes as much as the hands would let him. "Don't be silly".

Chummy laughed too even though the grip on her leg was getting tenser and she knew she might bruise, delicate peach that she could be when she felt like it.

She'd always had soft hands. Even back in those days when bravery just about let him hold onto her fingers in the darkness of the cinema, he'd noticed that. Hands that had professionally been in places that he really didn't want to think about were as smooth as the finest materials he might ever touch. Her back; that time he had trailed kisses down her spine, let the pads of his fingers wander around her breasts. Just thinking of her did awful things.

It was when he said her name. That's what did it, every single damn time, he said her name rumbling up from the deepest part of his being. She pushed a smile away as he came in her hands, soothing him through the aftershocks that she had, quite deliberately induced as she swiped her hands up and down him again.

She left him there, sliding off the bed and ignoring the fact she knew he wouldn't let her get away with walking off on him. He was slightly stunned and fighting for breath but knew he'd married her for a reason.

Camping with her would be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Chummy sat patiently in the car, taking occasional looks to see where Peter was as they stopped outside the gates to the camping site. It was awfully warm in the car and she had wound the window down long ago to at least try and get some air as they drove along, but she was far too hot. The place looked rather nice, neat and he was right about the countryside that surrounded it; trees green with the sun blinking through to her and not a cloud in the sky. This was certainly a good idea.

She saw him eventually wander across to the vehicle from the camp office and get in the car beside her.

"There you go" Peter said, passing her a ticket. "If we need to get in or out, we have to present that to the chap on the gate. Show we've paid".

Chummy put it safely in her handbag. "So where we do we set up camp?" she asked. She couldn't see very much at all from where they were apart from trees and more trees and the occasional car.

"Well", Peter started, taking the car keys from his pocket. "There's either the main campsite or he said they've opened a new area, down by the lake. It's a bit more.." He struggled for the appropriate word. "Rural…apparently".

"Rural?" she asked curiosity peaking as he started the engine.

"A little bit less civilised" Peter began, putting the car into gear as the owner opened up the gate for them as they drove through. The man tipped his hat at Chummy and she smiled back, realising it had been a long while since anyone had done that towards her. "We can still use all the bathroom facilities up here, it's just a bit _rougher_ down there".

"Oh well" she said, snapping the clasp on her bag shut now she had safely stored the ticket. "Game if you are".

Peter smiled. The other site it was then.

They drove for a few minutes through the main campsite, past other couples, families and various canines and he veered off to the left following signs that just said 'Lake'. Peter pulled the car up into a rather nice spot and stepped out. She was out too before he had the chance to run around and open her door for her.

"I think" he began, filling his lungs with fresh air as the large expanse of water twinkled in front of them. "Tent up and then we have some lunch". She agreed wholeheartedly and they took off their coats to begin work.

As he pulled the tent from the back seat, another car rolled up, a hundred or so yards to their left. They had neighbours it seemed.

"So have you ever put a tent up?" she asked, watching and helping as she could, as he laid out the poles, flysheet and ropes on the ground.

"Yes" he replied, wondering whether he had heard right that there was a certain challenge in her voice. Boy scout he was long ago. "Have you?"

She had to confess the answer was no. Last time they went 'camping' at school, the tents were already up when they arrived although she had waded in up to her knees in the water many a time and mucked in with building a raft that sank within ten minutes.

"How are you at taking direction then?" he asked.

"Perfectly good, thank you" she smiled.

"Right, we need somewhere quite flat. Under that tree?" he suggested, seeing her nod, quite happy. It was in the shade as they both struggled to sleep when it was hot. "First thing we do is feed the poles through the sleeves". Not too difficult she thought and to be honest they made rather quick work of it. "Now we need to peg out the tent with pegs and guy lines and use this". He picked up the mallet. "Start at one end and go to the other".

Chummy watched him pull the guy lines taught as he went, feeling rather redundant. Perhaps she would go and get all the rest of the supplies from the car, returning a minute or two later to see he was almost finished. She took one step and caught her foot on a rock, turning her ankle.

Thankfully it was only the sleeping bags that Peter saw bounce towards the water, rolling to a halt only a few feet away. Not looking what he was doing, more concerned that he had seen her ankle go over and heard her curse under her breath, he missed where the mallet should have hit and hooked the guy rope instead. It sprung up and the peg narrowly avoided his face by an inch.

She only saw him topple backwards and land in a heap, failing to stop the laugh that burst from her mouth. The shock of turning her ankle had started to wear off and the sight of him on his back with the rope pinging back was taking the edge away too. She knew she shouldn't be laughing and pressed her lips together quickly.

"Not funny Camilla" he replied as he was still on his back, hearing the laugh that escaped, before standing up and brushing dry earth and twigs off his backside.

"Was" she whispered, seeing him pick up the mallet again and hammer the peg firmly into the ground as she retrieved the sleeping bags, testing out her ankle as she went.

"Happy to have a go then?" he asked as she turned, holding out the mallet to her. There was only one tent peg to put in and it was on her side. She knelt down, pulling the guy rope and about to hammer the tent peg into the ground, determined to give it an extra thump for good measure to make up for his humiliation, even though it was only in front of her.

"Is that taught enough?" she asked.

Peter stood back for a moment, the sleeping bags now in his arms, covered in twigs and other detritus. "Yes" he replied. "Just about spot on". 'My wife with mallet though?' he thought as she raised it up. "Do you want me to do that?" he asked apprehensively.

"No" she replied, determined _she _wasn't going to get a tent peg nearly take her eye out.

"So how long do we give it before it falls down?" he said as he helped her up, taking back the mallet for safekeeping.

"I will have you know I think we've done a good job" Chummy replied, sliding her arm around his waist for a moment so they could admire the fruits of their labour.

"Ground sheet needs to go in next" he began picking it up off the floor. "After you…." he said, gesturing with his hand towards the entrance to the tent. Chummy hesitated.

"No after you" she replied remembering last time what had happened when she was crawling around on her knees in front of him. Besides there were other cars pulling up now and repetition of that was not for public consumption. The sheet settled and tucked in, they sat in the tent.

"Good show I think" she said, reaching across and planting a kiss on his cheek and looking at her watch. "It's almost half past twelve. Shall we have lunch?"

"I'll go and get the stove from the car" she said, crawling out of the tent just about feeling the tap on her backside. Since when did he start slapping me on the b-t-m? That one goes down in the book for further reference in the future.

Whilst she went to the car, he began arranging their accommodation, rolling out the two sleeping bags they had brought with them. It was probably going to be too hot for them but they made rather comfortable cushions against the ground under the sheet so they would serve a purpose as he heard her return with the stove, kettle, picnic basket and tinned food.

"Beans and bread?" she offered. Peter pushed his head out of the tent flap. "Sounds perfect".

Chummy surveyed the stove. It looked as though it had seen many an outing in its time but she had nowhere to start. "Peter?" she said after a minute or two. His head appeared back out of the tent.

"Can you?" she asked mournfully. Gas and flames never sat well with her and as she had already managed to trip over, he'd nearly blinded himself with a tent peg and she did not want to invite number three.

She had mastered not burning beans long ago and as they sat back on a felled tree near the water's edge, they just watched the world go by, chatting and laughing and meeting their temporary neighbours. Lunch over, Peter's hand fell on his camera.

Chummy had already wandered off back to the tree, disappearing into the tent to take off her stockings and shoes first so she could dip her feet into the water. Her ankle was hurting a touch too now, and there was a blue bruise appearing as she turned her foot over in the water, which to be frank was soothing it a bit. It was the last thing she needed though. There were so many places here to explore and here she was with a crocked ankle.

"No, please don't Peter" she pleaded seeing him appear at her side, camera raised. "I look a mess".

"You're beautiful" he replied simply, still standing over her the camera now by his side.

"No, please" she responded quietly. He breathed. Why can't she see how beautiful she is? I'd take a thousand identical photographs of you if I could because each one would be perfect. If you would let me.

"Can I take one photograph, from over there…" he said gesturing way behind him, "of you sitting on that log, but of the lake and the trees as well then?"

It was quite the setting they had found themselves in and she nodded seeing him run off behind her, trying to keep still for him. She heard the shutter twice and his feet walk across the dry ground towards her rather pleased with how the photograph might look; her seated on the log in the right hand corner with the sunlight, overhanging trees and sparkling water around her. She'd look like an angel but he already knew that.

Peter sat down, one arm around her waist, giving her a squeeze and a kiss, resting his lips just on her jaw. "See the tents still up then?" he quipped as she smiled, turning her ankle over again. "Is that hurting?"

"Just a little" she replied. Actually 'a little' was underestimating it.

"Why don't you go and sit out of the warm for a while, put your foot up". She felt his hand on her hip again before he ran back to get a towel so she could dry her feet and slip her sandals back on.

They crawled into the tent, Peter rolling up the end of one of the sleeping bags so she could raise her foot as she sat at the other end chewing her lip. "Camilla? What's wrong? That face is more than I've turned my ankle over..."

"I've ruined it, haven't it?" she cried, failing to stop the tears that fell down her cheeks. "Barely here five minutes for a lovely holiday with you and I can hardly walk". He took her hand.

"If I have to spend the next six days in this tent with you, I will" he reassured. "It's fine. We have food within three feet and a car. I can find plenty to do that doesn't involve standing up!"

Chummy burst out laughing through her tears.

"See that's better!" he responded, smiling himself, and brushing one of her tears away. "Stay here" he said, giving her what could only be described as a smacker of a kiss. "I will go and boil some water and make us some tea. After which we will zip up the tent and have nap in the cool. Agreed?"

"Agreed."


	4. Chapter 4

With her bare foot sideways on the roll of sleeping bag, Chummy had curled up in his arms, appreciating the shade the tent brought with it as she breathed in his presence as Peter tucked her tight into his neck.

"I do love you" she whispered as she felt a kiss pressed to the top of her head. How she got by before without the warmth he pervaded or the smell of Palmolive that he carried around with him, nuzzling close to his skin, lips inches from his neck. His arms were so tight around her that she felt so safe and cosy in their enclosed world and within minutes listening to each other's slowing breathing; they slept.

Chummy woke rather a long time later. Her ankle was freezing but she had somehow also gained her cardigan draped over her shoulders. As she opened her eyes, becoming aware of her surroundings, Peter was nowhere to be seen and his arms had gone. Although it was still more than sunny outside she had no idea what time it was as she searched around for her watch, not finding it. It might help if she had her glasses on but her ankle was distracting her. She looked down, trying to comprehend why it was so damn cold, finding melting ice cubes wrapped up in a yellow gingham tea towel acting as a temporary salve.

Chummy sat up carefully lifting the towel to inspect her ankle. Still bruised but not quite so swollen as she might expect. Still, where did these ice cubes come from and last time she saw that cardigan that she now put on properly, sliding her arms through, it was in her bag.

She shifted slightly, still sitting down but putting her ankle firmly on the ground, wondering how it would take her weight, testing it out speculating if the reason why she couldn't feel any pain was because it was frozen solid. Carefully she shuffled around to the front of the tent and unzipped the flap, looking around her to see still no sign of Peter.

She pursed her lips, knowing she wouldn't be able to go wandering off to find him and shouting for him would be quite unladylike. Carefully she shifted around again, heading back to wait, when the tent flap opened and Peter crawled through.

"Hello stranger" Peter smiled, creeping in next to her and sitting down. Yes she did look like she had just woken up, hair quite flat on one side, but he would never say.

Chummy smiled at him. "Where did the ice pack come from?"

"I just went to take some more photographs of the lake and saw the owner" he explained. "I mentioned your ankle and his wife brought that down. She thought it might help".

She smiled. It did. "Thank you".

"How's it feeling?" Peter asked.

"Cold!" she exclaimed with a smile. "But a lot better, one thinks".

He winked at her and settled back down onto his sleeping bag beside her. Peter had walked a fair bit in the last hour, leaving her to let her sleep and a rest was required. "He said there's a new pub opened up about half a mile down the road if we want to have lunch or supper there one day and there's going to be a fair on in the village if we want to go. Starts tomorrow until the end of the week".

"We can think about it" she said, going to lie down next to him again, breathing heavily again as she rested her cheek on his chest.

"Are you sure you are alright?" he asked, taking a quick peek at the blue bruise on her ankle and the patch of clearly swollen skin now he could see it better.

"I am" she replied, suddenly wondering how long she had been asleep. "What time is it?"

"Almost four" he replied.

"I should think of something to eat soon then" Chummy considered, feeling ever so settled.

"I fancy beans again" Peter considered. It had been years since he had been camping and baked beans heated over a stove had always been a favourite from time long gone.

"Again?" she questioned.

"Again….And that bread was lovely".

"Beans and bread it is again then. Glad you are so easily pleased" she replied, tightening her arm across his chest.

"You know me Camilla" he shrugged as she sighed again. She was so truly relaxed it was almost uncomprehensible and she leant up to kiss him, intending it only being a peck in thanks for thinking of her.

"Are you comfortable?" Peter asked, seeing her try and flex her ankle from side to side again as they lay down. She just grimaced and he sat up. "Pass me your leg" he asked, resting on his knees beside her.

"Pardon?" Chummy replied, not quite sure what he was up to.

"Foot" he said, tapping his thigh, lifting her leg to balance before he bent forward. Ever so gently he kissed her ankle, just above the boggy bruise, trying not to touch it. She smiled. This wasn't normal. This wasn't what marriage was meant to be, surely? This…wonderful? The kisses began trailing up her leg to the outside of her knee. He had done that, whilst she was still Camilla Browne, and it brought back a thousand memories.

"You did that when…" she said, thinking it but saying it out loud.

"I remember. So much has changed since then though hasn't it?" It certainly had.

He leant back over her, carefully placing her knee back down again, so conscious of her ankle. Chummy's lips were devoured into a kiss as he lay back down, propped up on his hand again. She didn't see him quickly check the zip was down on the tent, ever so gently washing his palm over her middle as she breathed deeply. She was beautiful when she was at peace, and this, Peter had decided, was another dress he liked.

Deep chocolate brown and it suited her so well. White buttons from the neck to the knees; that copious in number, but he was always a man who liked a challenge. How many of these could go before she'd notice in her state of repose? When he'd rested her knee back down he had not bothered to rearrange her skirts so they were in easy reach. One, two, three, four….he seemed rather obsessed by the amount of buttons she tended to wear.

"Peter….." she began. He could hear the warning in her voice.

"Oh…" he noted, trying to sound innocent, "I was wondering when you'd notice".

She laughed, watching him, taking hold of his wrist that was propping him up. "Peter I noticed a long time ago"

He just turned over his bottom lip, feigning thought. "Close your eyes".

"Pe-ter….". Usually when his name was converted into two syllables it meant trouble. Chummy really didn't quite know what to think he might be up to but whatever it was, she really wasn't objecting until reality struck her and she pushed his hand away.

"What?"

"We're out in public…." Ever conscious of how she behaved, sometimes unnecessarily she noticed that he ducked his head as she sat up, ignoring the twinge from her ankle. "Not exactly public" he replied, leaning across to kiss her when he knew she was about to say something that he had no desire to hear. Peter felt her hand rest on the back of his head, lips pressed to hers, hearing her breath in sharply at what that kiss could hold.

"No-one's going to be barging in and there's no doorbell to ring" he whispered, a feather of a kiss touching her lips again.

"Yes but…" she replied, still trying to find a reason why. Not an excuse, but there was something biting away inside her that told her that she was uncomfortable and really should not be thinking the thoughts that she knew her husband was sharing.

"Close. Your. Eyes" Peter repeated. "And lie down". She did so immediately, feeling her hand taken up before a kiss was pressed to her skin before was laid down across her middle, knowing really she was safe with him. She could already feel his fingertips on the bare skin of her thigh, only just above her knee, but it was stopping her concentration, twirling in circles closer and closer as the pads of his skin skimmed nearer and nearer to her hip. Peter ran his finger around the edge of her knickers; lace trim, back and forth and barely breathed a touch over the satin that covered her intimacy. At least she didn't wear finger trappers he thought as he continued the journey to her other hip. Now they _were_ a nightmare.

"Although I have to say that I do wonder if I can bet on you being able to be quiet for a change" he said, deliberately taunting her and she burst out laughing at the sheer cheek of it.

"So do I have a bet?" he asked. Chummy just opened her eyes and looked at him. No matter the fact it was almost engineered, it didn't matter as the anticipation of him just touching her, sent her spirit soaring and another parts, well, anticipatory, despite her misgivings. It was inexorable as to how her mind could be turned.

"If you lose" she began, putting him on the back foot already, "you make dinner". He could manage that and he nodded in agreement, hand still drifting over and around her thighs, running close to where she wanted him to be, and retreating, close and retreating, close and retreating. Peter shifted her other leg pushing it away from him, still careful of her ankle; that leg now placed carefully over his lap.

Every so gently he began turning those circles above the top of the satin that covered her, lightly pressing, flickering his fingers and teasing her, entirely intentionally just to see how far he could provoke her. It was when he began to hear that keening sound in the back of her throat, hooking his fingers underneath the satin, not relieving her of them as it was far too inconvenient, but running his fingertips over skin delving and finding that if he were to take it up himself; she would have been ready for him. He slipped one finger inside her feeling her hips come up to meet him, that purr in the back of her throat rising but still resisting even a peep of a noise.

"Camilla?" he asked, seeing the rock of her hips against the heel of his hand. He pushed a second finger inside her. She knew he was trying to make her lose the bet, so she just smiled at him before she caught her breath as he curved his fingers inside her, touching her more intimately then after.

He'd learned a few things about his wife, and women, when it came to that in the last nine or so months; learned what she liked, what embarrassed her, what made her relax and made her feel like the joy she was in his life. It was the only way he knew to make sure she knew he loved her too by affection, needing her or wanting her. Those first few times she had been quiet; Peter admitting only to himself that it worried him that she just didn't seem to react and to be frank, it made him wonder if she enjoyed his attentions at all.

In time he understood that she found it so hard to express herself in daily life that in the hands of her husband, literally at times, that feeling spilled over. Mind you, now? Well that was entirely different.

Out of the corner of his eye Peter saw her move her arm again, towards the top of his sleeping bag and drag it over her face. He smiled to himself. You are so determined not to lose this bet, aren't you my love? It strengthened his mind that he was going to win too.

Within a minute or two, she threw the sleeping bag aside for fear she might just suffocate herself as he deliberately quickened his pace, seeing she was struggling to keep herself within control. Her hands went across her face instead, fingers pressed into her temples, her breath becoming shorter and punchier as he felt her body begin to twitch around his fingers as her body grasped at him.

Peter knew that given a minute….

Bet lost Camilla.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a rather lovely evening. Chummy had been up, about and tested her ankle, hanging onto Peter at first, but realising that once she was up, it didn't feel altogether too bad. They had watched the sun set; his arms wrapped around her shoulder as they sat on the fallen log and then retreated to the tent.

It was far too hot in the night though and neither slept too well, waking early, fleeing to the shower block if only to cool down as the sun was high in the sky and beating down even in the early morning. On the way back they had noticed a new car twenty or so yards away from them and a couple unloading their wares.

Today was, however, going to be a lazy day, they decided, perhaps at best go for a little drive around the countryside, but neither had any intention of doing much more than that.

"Smile at me Camilla" Peter sang as he hovered over her, camera in hand. They had hired beach chairs from the campsite owner and she was laying back, eyes closed, resting in the sun. He was determined to get one photograph of her.

Chummy frowned at him and shook her head "No, Peter".

"One and then I'll go away and photograph…." He looked around himself. "That pile of rocks over there or that tree hanging over the water…" Peter gestured way over the expanse of the pond. All he wanted was to put on record forever just precisely how beautiful she was. "One?" he pleaded. "One and I'll go away". She let him, just this time and he did as he said, wandering off into the water's edge although when the photograph was developed she no intentions of looking at it.

A while later, when she had napped to make up for the lack of sleep last night and Peter was off again, she decided to tidy up. Not that they had made a mess but without him around, she only had a book to amuse her and quite frankly, it was not holding her attention. To her right, the woman from the next tent walked up to her, red hair shining in the sun.

"Carolyn Cook" the woman said, holding out her hand to Chummy thinking she had best walk over. "My husband" she said, gesturing behind her to the man who was putting a dog on a lead. "He's John and the mutt's called Speedy". She saw them wander off in the opposite direction with a wave.

"Camilla Noakes" Chummy said, shaking the other woman's hand. "Peter, my husband…Over there up to his neck in water taking photographs". The two women looked across at Peter who had waded out into the water.

Carolyn smiled. "I just thought I'd come over and introduce us as we're going to be neighbours for a while".

"Sit down" Chummy encouraged, gesturing at the chair beside her that Peter had occupied for a while until he got bored.

"Thank you" Carolyn smiled, sitting down, seeing her husband and the dog disappear into the trees. "They'll be off for hours now".

"How long as you here for?" Chummy asked, genuinely interested.

"Just a week. We came here on honeymoon. Couldn't afford anything else!" Carolyn smiled, remembering those days long ago. "Fifteen years ago that was and we've been back every year since. Creatures of habit we are!" The pair laughed. "Have you been here before?" Carolyn asked.

"No" Chummy replied, shaking her head. "Peter has a long time ago, when he was a child, but not together". Chummy had noticed the absence of any children with them. "Children not here?" she asked.

"We can barely cope with the dog never mind someone that talks back. Speedy is our child and we are getting another one in a few weeks. John was injured during the War and well that's when I met him so I knew we'd never have a family. Married him with my eyes open", Carolyn replied, now quite used to questions of that nature is it didn't bother her any more.

"Oh, I'm sorry" Chummy replied, feeling acutely embarrassed at the error she made.

"Quite alright" Carolyn responded. "Mistake often made" she reassured Chummy as Peter walked up, admittedly curious as to who his wife was talking to. The two women looked up.

"Carolyn, this is Peter. Peter, Carolyn. Our neighbours". Peter shook the woman's hand. "You'll have to speak to my husband about that camera" Carolyn remarked. "He's after buying one" she added, directed at Chummy. "I really don't see the point, but who am I to argue?"

Peter was about to reply when they heard shouting. _"Speeds! SPEEDY! Come away from there!"_

Carolyn turned her head around. "Oh dear!" she smiled, seeing her husband standing on the water's edge but the dog swimming earnestly across the water, having the time of his life. "John can't swim and any water, that dog's in head first if you let him. First time he's been off the lead since we got here. You'll have to excuse me while I rescue them both!" With a smile she ran off.

"They seem nice", Chummy smiled as Peter sat down, putting the camera underneath his chair.

"They do" Peter replied taking her hand, just wasting time for half an hour before Chummy disappeared off to the toilet block, refusing his offer to walk with her, should her ankle decide to give way. Moments after she left Peter saw their neighbour, complete with dog walking over.

"Peter isn't it?" John said, stretching out his hand.

"It is" he replied, getting up.

"John Cook. Neighbour. I don't suppose we could ask an awful favour? And you can say no" he quickly added, knowing it was a touch of an imposition as they had only known the Noakes all of an hour or so.

"Go on" Peter smiled.

"Carrie has relatives a couple of villages over and we were going to drop in on them, get it over and done with early if you know what I mean. Trouble is the beast" he continued, nodding down to the dog, "isn't welcome".

"Oh, that's fine" Peter replied. "We don't mind keeping an eye on him".

John breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he wanted do was leave the poor animal in the car on a day like this. "He's fed and his water bowl is outside the tent but he won't be much trouble. He's got his favourite tennis ball by the bowl and he'll do the fetching and carrying" John passed him the lead. "We should be back by dusk. I try to get away as quick as I can!"

"It's fine. Not a problem" Peter repeated, smiling, hearing the sentiment in the man's voice.

"Well then" John replied, hearing his wife open the car door, ready to go. "Be good, Speed me old mate" John said as he rubbed the dog's head.

Peter sat back down as they drove off, the dog lying down a few feet in front of him and deciding it was time to have a sleep. "Do you know that looks like an awfully good idea" Peter said to the dog, knowing really he shouldn't be sleeping in the middle of the day, wasting his holiday. His hopes were dashed though as out of the corner of his eye, Camilla had returned and it was nearly lunchtime.

"You were a while" he noted, not accusing her of anything.

"I know. I found a shop and a little café. We could get some sandwiches for lunch". She had come back to get some money.

"Its alright. I'll go. Save your ankle". He patted his trouser pocket checking he had some money on him and off he wandered, the dog raising an eyebrow and decided it was too much effort to move. "We're looking after the dog by the way!"

Lunch over, and they sat side by side Chummy felt something drop on her lap. She turned away from Peter to set eyes on a rather expectant face; and a chewed tennis ball on her knee.

"I think it was that sandwich he had" Peter noted, having seen the whole thing. "Woke him up".

Chummy sat forwards. "Is that a hint little friend?" she asked, picking up the ball and stroking the dog's head. "Come on then!" She got up, wincing putting her weight through her ankle, at which point the dog ran headlong into the water, turning back towards her.

"Balls still here daft one" she said, throwing it overarm further into the water and the dog splashing off after it.

"You're going to be there for a while you know…" Peter warned, walking up behind her.

"I don't mind. The water's nice". Chummy had barely bothered wearing shoes the last day or so since her ankle, so she had wandered on ahead into the edge of the water, picking the ball up as it was deposited at her feet and launching it again. The repetitive nature of their game did not seem to faze young Speedy and he must have been back and forth in and out of the water that many times she had lost count, until it seemed he suddenly became more interested in a floating branch.

"I think he gave up" Chummy noticed as the dog just kept swimming around, the ball floating behind him. Peter had wandered a few feet into the water and even with rolled up trouser legs, the water was almost at his knees.

"Come on" he said, holding out his hand to her. He noticed her lift up her skirts just passed her knees too and promptly tuck the material into her knickers. Peter just laughed to himself. A few months ago she would never have done that but apart from the dog, there was no-one else really around and those that were, were still wearing less than his wife.

It had to be done though. He leant down, ostensibly to roll up his trouser leg, instead taking a handful of water. He'd done this once on honeymoon and clearly upset her but times had changed and he heard the squeal as the water hit her clean in the middle. Her face turned to stone.

"Oh dear" she said, quite flatly, looking down at the patch on her dress. "That will never do".

Peter was about to take a step forward; hug her, apologise to her (again) and she might be alright. She was too quick for him though and he received a splash of water straight in the face.

As he swiped the water from his eyes, not sure how clean it was but he couldn't have everything, he smiled. "So its that way is it?" he asked, taking that step forward as she took a step back, relatively sure of the ground underneath her, his hand skimming through the water again, and to be frank within seconds, it descended into full on water fight for minutes until she realised she was soaking from head to foot. Speedy had also decided to join in, barking, splashing and being splashed, enjoying himself probably more than the humans.

"Peter!" Chummy gasped, out of breath, holding her palms up in surrender. "Stop please. Stop". She also couldn't see properly as her glasses were covered in water, only just picking out him walking across and putting his arms around her waist. Peter reached up to kiss her all he could taste was pond water.

"I think" he said. "We go and get our friend here out of the water and dry off? Don't you?"

"Good idea" she replied, kissing him back, still laughing.

They were thoroughly drenched.


	6. Chapter 6

They dried off and changed in turns; one person needed to keep an eye on their charge as he decided to shake himself dry all over his owner's tent before yet another nap in the sun became necessary.

The night was closing in now and they had showered off the pond water, eaten, returned the dog to his owners and were now lying side by side on their respective sleeping bags as the sky became darker. Chummy had entirely forgotten about her ankle. It did seem as though laughter was the best medicine after all.

"It's been a lovely day", Peter breathed utterly relaxed, hands over his head and staring at the join at the top of the tent. In his own world he was lying there in vest and trousers with no plans to go anywhere now.

"It has" Chummy replied. Her eyes were closed, glasses off.

"It was nice to look after someone" Peter considered, certain things having been on his mind for a while now. "Well… a pet, that was..."

"Hmmm" Chummy responded carefully, knowing what he was driving at and thinking she may as well take the plunge. "Having a dog for the day, managing to feed him, play with him and not lose him is not the same as having a child".

"I know that" he responded, turning on his side so he could face her, "but it got me thinking that we've been married a year in three months". It had occurred to her too when she was speaking to Carolyn but she had kept that snippet to herself.

Peter had been entirely complicit in their decision to delay their family for a while; to wait until their first wedding anniversary had passed so they had some time together just as man and wife. Now it _was_ three months away and she knew in her bag there was an empty diaphragm case as she fished inside and found it just before when she collected her toiletry bag for her shower. It was the thing she had forgotten when she was packing, walking past it where it rested on the bathroom sink and only realising now her error.

She had had it before they got married; knowing Dr Turner would keep her confidentiality. Peter had never even mentioned marriage when she went to see the Doctor, but frankly he'd never need to know that and in all likelihood presumed quite sensibly that she was planning ahead and perhaps the Constable had proposed but common knowledge it was not.

Chummy reached into her bag, the case she had for it in front of her, passing it from hand to hand. Peter knew what that usually housed.

"Will it matter?" he started. "I mean, it won't happen straight away".

"No, no, that's probably true. And despite what we said, we've not been all _that _careful", she replied, dropping the case from her left and to right hand again.

"Well there you go then" he replied, leaning across and nuzzling up to her neck, although she was still considering matters. He withdrew and took the case off her, dropping it into _his_ bag down by his feet before going to lie on his stomach. "Camilla, whatever happens now or in ten years time I love you and our family will come when he or she is, or they are, ready to".

"I know". She did want a child, underneath it all, and she would make sure history could not repeat itself.

She ran her fingers down the side of his face and smiled as Peter turned sliding his arm under her neck so they could lie face to face, reaching across to kiss her. They simple rested there for a minute.

"So what do we do tomorrow?" she asked.

"I was thinking of a drive maybe?" Peter suggested. "Show you around the place?" Walks were on his mind too but perhaps he would leave that for a day or two until she could manage better.

Chummy smiled. "Yes that sounds tip top".

"Good" Peter responded, leaning across to give her another quick kiss.

"It's still so warm" she complained, shifting her neck. As much as she loved lying in his arms, he was warm too and was not helping.

"Well get changed" he suggested, "or at least take your dress off; it'll be cooler in your slip". It seemed to be a perfectly logical thought and within minutes the dress was lying folded up over her holdall. He was right though as she lay back down, her back to his belly, what little air there was stroking over her arms and she felt far better, even though he was holding onto her tighter than before.

She could feel him shifting about though, initially just dismissing it as him getting more comfortable, but every time she moved back; he moved too and a few minutes later she had to ask the question as to be honest, as him budging about was becoming a touch irritating. "Peter?"

"Sorry, must learn to control my reflexes!" he apologised, really quite genuinely.

She sniggered before she rolled over, dropping her hand between them to touch him, running her hand over the front of his trousers feeling why he was blatantly excusing himself. "No need" she replied, reaching across, pulling him by the belt back across from his wanderings as his hand skirted her waist and hip. The thought of her breasts pressed to his chest caused him to pull her closer still. "Peter we have neighbours" she whispered, although the first thing he considered before he answered was that it was a bit late for that and that she started it. He would have to remind her of that.

"They're not there. I saw them leave, dog too…. when you went to have a shower" he whispered. That was at least two hours ago if not more. "Pub. We got asked".

"Oh?" she replied. It was more a puff of air as he dragged his lips over her throat, causing her to sigh, his knee pushing between her legs so they were wrapped up.

"I said…" he swallowed. "Another night... and besides you started all of this so don't complain when I take you up on the offer!"

"That's true. That's fine" she breathed. Far better than 'fine' to be truthful if this was the alternative. She could kiss him like this for hours, feeling his hands creep from her neck over her slip, spending minutes wandering over her from shoulder to hip, legs entwined in each other ratcheting up the need that was clearly building between them as the time ticked on. Chummy dragged her hand to his neck, feeling the pulse hammering against her palm as she moved over his shoulder and the short fight to remove his vest. His arms around her waist were tight, lips pulling at hers, tongue invading and if she was honest, she was suddenly overwhelmed.

"Husband…" she started with a giggle. "Slow down".

"Sorry" he mumbled pulling back from the kiss; her seeing his pupils entirely blown and him seeing the pink flush on her chest.

"Slow…" she said, giving him the lightest of kisses. "Down". Another gentle kiss. "I know you love me…" she started with a most enormous smile, "but slow down".

He felt a push to his shoulders and he lay down, fingers entwined with his as she smiled down at him still. "What?" he asked, not quite sure what he was reading on her face.

"Nothing" she replied, sitting across his knees.

"You tell me to slow down?" he questioned, closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensations, even through two layers of his clothes and one of hers she settled. He felt her laugh again as she leant down and buried her lips in his neck again; a trail of kisses over his chest, stomach as he felt her undo his trouser belt as she carried on, nudging him accidentally with her cheek before she pulled his trousers past his knees. The brief touch of her cheek, scuffing his undershorts against the hardness beneath induced a rather sharp intake of breath that was quite like music to her hears. Could she really do that? Do something that she had thought about but not been so brave as to do? She felt a tug on the strap of her slip, pulling her upwards. Maybe that was her answer.

She tracked kisses around and up his stomach, up to his lips, devouring, trailing kisses from left to right along the waistband of his undershorts, hearing him breathe steadily until the last moment, fingers resting on that waistband, when she felt his hands go around her wrists and again, pulling her back up and away from him. This time she realised the message ought to have been loud and clear the first time and she returned her journey, landing on his lips, feeling the skirts of her slip pulled up to her waist.

"Take that off" he asked as she sat up and the slip went over her head as she sat across his legs. Peter sat up, her arms around his neck. He preferred his; so much more to see as he took the slip off her and shoved it somewhere. He wasn't too bothered about her modesty right now and just needed to see her skin; hands everywhere and whatever changed in the next few minutes, he lost his undershorts, she her knickers.

It was almost painful how much she just wanted to feel the push against her body as it gave way. She wasn't meant to feel like this; the sheer unbridled want of nothing more than a base need. The fact, with her help as she wiggled back from her position of authority, he pushed himself inside in one clean movement caused her grab hold of his hands, palms tight together, biting back his name. The fact she also heard footsteps and talking not so far away caused her to freeze.

"Is that?" she breathed, eyes very wide at the possible intrusion and the overload of senses.

"Don't know" Peter replied, pulling her into a kiss, although he could see she was distracted turning her head away to the direction of where the noise had come from. "Camilla" he said, releasing his hand turning her face back forwards him. "Ignore it". She frowned, obviously in conflict between her sensibilities and the fact that she was sitting on his lap, feeling her body stretch to accommodate him. He had to turn her attentions back to the task in hand, and slipped said hand between them, determined to distract her again in all the correct ways possible and as he gently began to move his fingers over her he felt within himself, her body twitch.

Her mind however was still elsewhere and there was nothing thrilling over the risk of being caught, even though she could feel full well what Peter was doing, resting her forehead on his shoulder, breathing out and in and then he heard his name, just once.

He didn't need the change of tack he had been planning to clamp his hands to her hips once he heard that. "Camilla?" he sang quietly in her ear, hands crawling over her back, encouraging her hips to move. Peter heard what he needed to hear, her breathing his name, ever so quietly in his ear, over and over and over again, her body starting to squeeze the life from his until couldn't concentrate any more on her distraction or the talk from outside.

Lying back with one arm out so she could settle in, the fact that he would now kiss her and tell her he loved her rather that turn his back, made her so secure and the voices from somewhere beside them were gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Chummy had her eyes closed by the time Peter pulled up at the gates to the campsite and if he was being straight with himself, Peter had been rather envious but he knew he had to keep his eyes on the road instead. He pulled on the handbrake and rolled down the window, smiling up at the owner.

"Camilla? Have you got the ticket?" he asked, turning to her. "Camilla?"

Ever so gently he prodded her with his arm and she woke up, bleary eyed. "Ticket?" Peter repeated as she fished in her bag and produced what he was looking for. Showing it to the person on the gate they were let through and he passed her it back. The ticket went safely back in her handbag for next time.

Chummy sighed loudly as the car trundled carefully through the campsite. It was getting darker now, they had been out all day, and people were settling down for the evening, cooking supper or walking over to the café. A few children were still running about but most were settling down for the night.

They had already eaten in a public house they had found a mile away, having driven and walked, walked and driven and built up an appetite that when they passed the White Feathers, he had turned the car around and they had indulged as a treat. Now as darkness was closing in, rest and sleep was called for. Both had had too much fresh air today and they knew it.

As she pottered around inside the tent, laying out their sleeping bags again, Chummy noticed that her husband had gone awfully quiet and it made her suspicious. He hadn't said he was going off anywhere, but she still wondered where he had got to or what he was up to.

"Peter what are you doing?" she asked, crawling out of the tent seeing him sitting on the ground, his back to her.

"Fire" he replied simply, not turning round.

"Pardon?" she asked, walking across to face him, seeing a little pile of kindling at his side and what looked like a stream of random bits of thicker wood and a stone. He had a shoe lace over his knee

"Fire", he said, looking up as she stood over him. "I thought it might be nice to have a camp fire".

"Is it allowed?" Chummy asked cautiously. There were signs up here there and everywhere to do this and not do that.

"It is as long as we make sure its out" he replied. "I checked. Can you peel some bark off that tree or some of that moss off those stones? Make sure it's as dry as you can get it". She saw him gesture quickly to their side and she went off and by the time she returned with handfuls, probably too much, of the stuff he had constructed all he needed in a makeshift type of manner.

"So does this work all the time?" Chummy asked sceptically as she sat down opposite him, over the other side of his experiment. She had heard of people making fire with bits of twigs and a lot of effort, but she was really quite unconvinced that he would have any success.

"I was good at it when I was a kid" Peter responded, remembering the hours he would spend, quite to the worry of his parents over various tasks he would undertake, making sure he got them right. "Bit of patience never killed anyone".

"Might have frozen or starved them to death though", she considered, pausing for a moment, picking up one of the sticks he collected. "We do have matches you know".

"I know we do" he replied, but he had set his mind to this, turning the bow and wood. Chummy watched him in fascination, sheer concentration on his face as he carried on. She should have known he would be determined to get it right or die trying.

"It is smoking?" Peter asked, not really able to see from his side but he would hope after the amount of effort that was going into it, with Chummy silently and patiently watching, that something was happening.

"One thinks so…" Chummy offered, caution clear in her voice.

"Good" Peter replied. "Blow on it very gently". She looked at him. "Seriously. Very gently" Peter responded seeing she didn't believe a word he was saying. "I was a wolf cub. You can trust wolf cub". Chummy had seen the photograph so she knew that was true so she began blowing in the general direction of the smoke, looking up to see him trying to keep a straight face. "I won't do it if you bally laugh at me". She sounded genuinely hurt.

"Sorry" he replied, adopting his best serious work face. "Go on, otherwise it'll stop smoking!"

Chummy looked at him again, but did his bidding and blew gently on the kindling. It was like gentle versions of the breaths they taught women in labour and after a while she didn't feel so silly, apart from the fact that nothing whatsoever was happening notwithstanding both of their efforts.

"Have we got fire yet?" Peter asked, seeing her shake her head as she continued blowing. "Well keep going!"

All of a sudden though there was a small orange spark, that, as she encouraged it, began to fold out into a flame. She clapped her hands together before realising there were people around and going a bright shade of pink in her embarrassment of her public display. "Stop laughing at me Noakes!" she whispered, expecting him to be sitting there grinning at her when she looked up.

"I wasn't!" he replied, wrongly accused. He'd managed to hide it this time, sort of.

"You are!" she protested indignantly. "I can see it in your eyes".

"I'm just happy we succeeded" he replied truthfully.

Chummy shook her head as the flames took as she provoked them with more kindling. Well they were not really 'flames' but it was enough to suggest a victory for patience had been had. "I don't think we'll exactly be able to toast bread over it….." she offered, considering the sight before her.

"I know" Peter replied, leaning over to kiss her, one hand stretched across to collect hers. "Thank you for your help". She smiled and met his lips, eyes cast down until she noted with horror that he was leaning far too close to the flames.

"Peter!" she squealed, pulling back from him. "Your sleeve!"

"What?" he replied, looking down, seeing the cuff of his shirt starting to blacken. He had undone the cuffs long ago and practically whole lower sleeve was dangling down.

"Your sleeve! " Chummy continued pulling his arm up and away from the fire.

"Shi.." he stopped himself swearing, seeing the sparks take on the checked material.

"Quick! Just…." She scrabbled to stand up, dragging him up by the shoulder, looking quickly around her, shoving him towards the lake. "Just…into the water".

The fact that he ran over and was leaning over at the waist one arm in the water was enough and she was almost causing herself injury, pressing her lips together to stop herself laughing at the sight. She wasn't succeeding though at the sight of his backside in the air and his rather swift paddle, complete with socks, had caused her to descend into a fit of the giggles. He turned, still leaning over. "Don't laugh madam".

"I'm sorry" she replied, hoping the tears she had in her eyes were not visible, walking over and resting her palm on the base of his spine as he stood up and rolled up his sleeve, revealing nothing more than a wet arm and a barely discernible patch of slightly pink skin. He could very well have burnt himself and if she was being honest; she wanted to check.

"Let me have a look" she said sympathetically. He stood up, it having crossed his mind to flick water at her but deciding against it seeing her gently turn his wrist over and in what little light they had clearly determine that there was not much to worry about. "You'll live" she continued bluntly, folding the soggy sleeve back down.

"And thank you for your exceptionally caring bedside manner" he replied, sarcastically.

"Always a pleasure for you", Chummy replied, gently patting the side of his face. "Shall I get the matches if we want to get any kind of atmosphere from it?"

Peter scrunched his nose and cleared his throat, examining the side of his wrist, quite pleased that he had not come to some damage. "Yes, probably an idea".

Now with a slightly more enthusiastic fire in front of them, they sat, side by side, Chummy resting her head on Peter's shoulder. "It's so quiet" she whispered listening to the crackle of the flames that were now looking far healthier than before and the campsite around them almost completely asleep.

"Well" Peter offered, "I could sing for you, or dance around it for entertainment but you'll want to divorce me within two minutes".

"We dance perfectly fine" she stated. It didn't really require an answer as she felt a kiss pressed to the side of her head before, moments later to her side, they heard feet and the scrabbling of paws across the dry ground. They turned to find the Cooks and Speedy, heading in their direction.

"Just wanted to apologise if we disturbed you last night" John offered as the pair stood up. "Bit too much to drink between us I'm afraid".

"No, don't worry. You didn't." Peter laughed, seeing the dog eying up the fire. They truly had not really noticed apart from the distraction for a moment as there were more pressing issues to consider at the time.

"That's good" John replied as his wife smiled. "Well, we'll say goodnight. Come on Speed". The dog just gave him a disdainful look.

"Come on you" Carolyn encouraged, getting the same look herself.

"He can stay here" Chummy offered seeing the animal was not for moving as he seemed to have become rather attached to their fire and was bedding down, possibly for the night it seemed.

"Do you mind?" Carolyn replied. "If we drag him away he'll just whine and bark like between the four of us we're torturing the legs off him!"

"No its, fine" Chummy repeated, smiling down at the animal. "I'm sure he'll go home when he's ready".

That night the Noakes' slept with a guard dog stationed at the foot of their tent.

_**With thanks to AndreaAtlyss for inspiration for Peter setting fire to himself :)**_


	8. Chapter 8

She was back sitting on the fallen log, waking early in the warmth and leaving Peter fast asleep still. Chummy had dressed quietly, trying not to knock him in the confined space and testing her ankle as she walked across from the tent, she breathed in the new day as it dawned. A handful of people were wandering around, starting their day too but this was heaven as the water sparkled and she watched the sun creep over the line of trees and smile down on her.

He did have good ideas sometimes, she thought, wondering how today would unfold and what they may do. They would have breakfast in the café, just like yesterday and then decide what to do with today. It was wonderful having no-one to call on you, no-one to expect you to be in one place when they needed you at their beck and call. Chummy shut her eyes as the early morning breeze caressed her face, not hearing any movement from behind; only two children running with their father some distance away.

Peter had woken, dressed, and wondered where she had gone, pushing aside the tent flap to see her sitting back on the log. He had noted it was starting to be her favourite place as he crept across behind her, trying not to disturb the ground too much as he strolled along.

She jumped when she felt his lips on her neck as she daydreamed, the contact sending sparks up and down her spine. "Good morning" Chummy smiled.

"Good Morning", Peter responded sitting so he was straddling the tree, pushing his arms around her waist to pull her back so she could lean on him.

"So what do we do today?" she asked.

"How's your ankle?" Peter questioned first. He had an idea of where he might like to have taken her on this holiday and today seemed to be ideal as it wasn't too hot but it really depended on her being at least partially mobile.

"It feels fine" she replied, turning in his arms so she could seem him better. "Still bruised but fine".

"Then I know" Peter responded, dotting a light kiss to her cheek. "Little bit of a drive and we'll need to take something to sit on".

He'd not said a word about 'where' but as Chummy noticed that they were flying through villages and farmland, towns and past pubs and fields, she realised they were heading towards to the coast. She had tried to ask but he was being beastly and annoying and refusing to tell her.

"Peter! It's bally freezing!" were the first words that fell out of Chummy's mouth as she got out of the car. He had parked on a piece of scrub land, finding a handful of cars already there and as she closed the car door behind her, the wind caught her and whipped at her face.

"It is a bit windy" he conceded, closing his own door, seeing what she meant. "But, once we get going we should be alright".

"So where are we?" she asked as he reached across and took her hand and they walked towards a rough cliff path.

"About a mile that way" Peter replied, pointing past her to his left. "White Cliffs".

"Dover?" she asked surprised. The last time she had been here was when she was on the way to Paris with Mater to see someone or other than she could not be bothered to remember.

"Clear enough to see for miles" he breathed. "We can leave the car here and just walk if you feel up to it!"

They wandered hand in hand along the path, the sky blue, but still with that ill wind from the Channel drifting across. After a while though she was flagging, her ankle beginning to throb, but they were almost at their destination so she took a deep breath, not letting Peter see, and cracked on. It was with some relief that he suggested they sit down, daring her to sit as close to the edge as she could.

Chummy shook out the picnic blanket they had brought to sit on and they sat down, leaning on each other, and just watched the water as it lapped gently against the shore. It was all they could hear as the haze over the water began to reveal land in the distance.

"I never thought I'd want to see France again" Peter said, mouth talking before he could think, seeing the grey outline of land on the horizon.

"Would you ever go back? To visit?" Chummy asked quietly. She knew most of the time it was a non-subject but she had heard of it. Men going back in an attempt cleanse their wounds and minds as to what they saw there.

"Some people did go back. Thought it might help..." he replied. Peter nodded, considering her words, not having wanted to address the possibility himself before now. "Perhaps one day when...when it doesn't feel quite so lonely". He took a breath. "Shall we stay here for a while?"

He had noticed that she had been quiet ever since they had walked along the cliffs and he really didn't know why, assuming perhaps it was her ankle, although she seemed to walking perfectly well. Quiet over lunch, quiet in the journey back and now as the evening drew on, she was back sitting on the tree again lost in her own world.

"Was it something I did?" Peter asked sitting down next to her, putting a cardigan around her shoulders that he had retrieved from the tent. She had been rubbing her arms but she shook her head quickly.

"So please tell me" he asked, a hand smoothing over her back, wanting her to relieve of what was so clearly on her mind.

"I was just thinking about what we were talking about before" she said eventually. "France" continued, bluntly, seeing him duck his head. "I know you don't really talk about it, but I don't want you to ever feel that alone again that you can't tell anyone".

"I won't" he replied. "You're here and if I do ever go back there, we will go together". Peter reached across, sliding his hand to her neck to pull her across, lips caressing hers quickly as people swam and paddled in the lake as the evening drew on.

"Are you still cold?" Peter asked, seeing her rub her arms as they sat, even with the cardigan. "I could have another go at a fire". He paused. "With matches this time!"

"I think…" she began, tired and cold, even though the sun was still peeking through the trees, it was more exhaustion of mind. "I think I need the tent. Sleeping bag". She had been unsettled today.

"Now that is a good idea", Peter replied, going to put his arms around her waist again.

"You don't think of anything else.." she smiled feeling her heart lighten for a moment at the closeness of his embrace.

"And trust me not until I met you" he responded. "A cold wife is never a happy one". Chummy laughed. There was never more truth than in jest. "Come on", he said, unravelling himself and taking her hands. "Lets go and lie down for a bit".

"Peter?" she asked suddenly, toying with the sleeve of his shirt as they lay side by side. She was a little warmer now, but her mind was by no means at rest. "When you were in France, did you let yourself think you'd come home?"

"No" he breathed. "I daren't. I _wanted_ to but I daren't think of Mum, Dad or Jeanie". She knew about his fiancée but it was the first time he had called her by her pet name in front of his wife. "But I was only a kid and I didn't understand any of it really, how enormous the whole thing was. How much destruction, damage, it caused".

"My brothers, when they came back, would just talk about how much they used to drink and how many women they could get through; even though they had fiancées and girlfriends too". It had always horrified to her some of the frankly quite disgusting conversations they would have; how they would speak of women as though they were something they cast off without a care.

"Some of the lads used to so that I used to stand guard while they…you know" he offered. "With the local girls".

Chummy swallowed apprehensively. "_You_ never….?"

"No!" he replied sharply. "No, Camilla. I can tell you hand on my heart, never". He tipped her chin up with his finger. "Do you believe me?"

"Course I do". He was different from her brothers and well, she had no choice but to believe him as he leant down to kiss her, pushing her lips apart, feeling her tongue sweep with his, battling into a fit of the giggles as he travelled down her neck, hands almost clawing at her cardigan buttons to get them undone, wanting to distract her from the subject she had approached. He was still laughing through as she let out a breathless noise as he found that spot behind her ear that could put her on her knees every single time, drawing his name from her throat, this all escalating into something that could very well be over, rather, rather quickly.

Her palm scraped down his chest, finding his belt loops and pulling him tighter against her. "Do you believe me?" he asked again, needing to ask, needing to hear her words again.

"I believe you" she replied, pulling his shirt at the waist so she could find skin underneath and it distracted him for a moment, allowing her to lean up and over him, fighting back from the rather disheveled cardigan she now wore and attacking his belt buckle. For some reason he seemed to know where she was going as she replaced the presence of the belt with kisses, a brief touch of her lips to the buttons of his fly until his hand was in the way.

"Why not?" she asked, straightening up, pulling her cardigan across herself defensively.

"Because you aren't like that", Peter replied, sitting up to face her, ignoring the aching she had managed to induce.

"I don't understand" she said, feeling entirely lost.

"Because when I told you I used to stand guard, it was so _they_ could do _that_ with …those women your brothers went to" he explained, remembering those times, remembering how those women used to be treated.

She frowned at him again. "I love you and..." She knew he had put her on such a ridiculously high pedestal but Chummy however knew just how far she could fall from those heights. "I just wonder what it might be like".

He matched the creases in her forehead. "I had to stand guard for my best mate who then talked about a woman as though she was something he stepped in, just because she did that for.._to_.. him". He couldn't separate it in his head; this association he had that it was an act of a whore, not his wife and an act he had no experience of that even curiousity could not help him with.

"That's just it Peter", she replied. "_To_ him, not _for. _ Everything we do whether its this..." she began waving her hand between the two of them. "Isn't it _for_ each other?_"_

He nodded. How true that was. "You wait so much until I'm ready, but... I understand now and it's fine" she concluded, smiling genuinely at him as she reached across just to hug him; holding each other there for a minute or two. "Did we get off the road?" she said, feeling him nod, a kiss pressed to her clothed shoulder.

"We did" he replied, with a short laugh, arms still wrapped around her. "Shall we get back on?"


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Peter asked, slipping on his coat as they stood outside the tent. It was closing in on six o'clock and they had eaten an early supper with their new neighbours, the conversation turning to a trip to the pub.

"No" Chummy smiled, straightening his collar. "Go and have a drink, its fine".

Peter smiled up at her, kissing her goodbye as John appeared from the other tent. "All ready?" he shouted over and the two men departed.

"I'll leave the tent on the latch!" she called after him, seeing him pass the dog who was headed in her direction. "What-ho Speedy!" she whispered. "Are you off to the pub too?"

"He's been barred for unruly drunken behaviour!" Carolyn quipped. Chummy hadn't noticed she was walking over to her. "Only joking" she smiled. "We know the owner and well, he just sits under the table eating other people's crisps and peanuts all night, scrounging for the dregs out of glasses…but he's decided to have a night in!"

Chummy had a glass thrust at her; seeing the bottle of red wine in the other woman's hand.

"It's not the best but I wouldn't be cleaning the floor with it" Carolyn continued as the dog sat next to where a night or so ago there had been a fire. Maybe he was thinking that he could drop a hint.

Chummy smiled. She had no idea about what wine was good but would take the other woman's word for it. "How's your husband's drinking arm?" Carolyn asked.

"Not exercised very often" Chummy replied with a smile as they sat down. "He's a policeman so he doesn't drink often and when he does it makes him sleep".

"God! I wish it did that to John. He's just wide awake _all the time_. Annoying!" Carolyn responded, the bottle already uncorked and waiting to be poured. Chummy held both glasses and the women began to chat about anything and everything, both enjoying the late evening although the last warmth of the day was well and truly running out.

"I did want to apologise to you as well" Chummy began, feeling the glass of red wine she had surprisingly almost finished, as it began to dilute her blood.

"For?" Carolyn asked. She was on her second glass already and well ahead of her companion.

"Asking about children" Chummy replied, not feeling like protesting when her glass was refilled.

"Like I said before, its fine" Carolyn responded. "It's a natural question and I've been asked that many times already that…well…I don't care anymore if I'm being blunt… Our families know why and that's the most important part". She saw Chummy nod. "I used to be with the Red Cross during the War. That's how we met. I didn't care for him but he was in the Hospital where I worked so I knew what happened to him, but you can't help who you fall in love with".

"Yes that's true. My mother didn't want me to marry Peter". Chummy had never really talked about that before to anyone. Each of her friends knew, but it seemed a subject that she tended to skirt around if she could.

"Well good for you for doing what you want" Carolyn replied, holding up her glass to toast. "We all find a life for ourselves somehow and you have to deal with what is given to you. We're happy and… yes, its alright. I don't miss not having children". She paused with the glass at her lips. "Does that make sense?"

"It does" Chummy replied. It made perfect sense to her. "I never thought I'd get married, or if I did, that I would love my husband so there was no point in even thinking about having children".

"_If_ you would love your husband?" Carolyn asked, really quite concerned with what she had heard.

"My mother made it her mission to marry me off" Chummy replied. "I wouldn't have much choice in it".

"Ah so that's why she doesn't approve of Peter". It had been obvious to her just how in love their temporary neighbours were so her comments were initially somewhat confusing, but clarified, it made perfect sense.

Chummy nodded, pressing her lips together. "Sometimes I don't believe...I don't believe how much I think I can love him".

"No" Carolyn smiled. "I'm forty three next birthday and one thing you learn as you get older is how to make your choices. Choose what's best for you and if he is best for you then you were right to marry him. John might be a fussy old sod, but he loves me and well it wasn't easy at first with his injuries, being newly married, but you don't marry someone to think it's all hearts and flowers until your ninety! You find other ways if you get me".

Chummy nodded. She didn't really want to pry into what happened to an absolute stranger's personal issues. "He was shot. In the abdomen, groin and legs. He was lucky. Apparently" Carolyn offered openly.

"Peter was burned" Chummy responded. "All the way down his shoulder and back. I don't notice it anymore". She genuinely now didn't blink if she saw his damaged skin, not afraid to touch even though he could not feel a thing. She was certainly not repelled and just the fact that she accepted the scars as part of him

"Funny, I don't notice the scars either. They are just _there_" she replied. "We've travelled, have a nice house, got the mongrel there. I don't think I want any more from my life".

"What mix is he?" Chummy asked, seeing the dog look up.

"Black Labrador, Collie and a bit of German Shepherd thrown in we think. Jack Russell next so they should keep each other in check!"

As the night drew, the sky darker, the girls decided to call it a night and wait for their respective husbands to return, Chummy hearing the gentle drip of rain as it tapped against the tent roof as she lay down inside, tucked up in her sleeping bag. The wind was started to get up too as she glanced at her watch. It was only quarter to eleven and she knew they were walking but she really didn't want to sleep until she knew he was back.

Her eyes were quietly closing until she heard a dog barking enthusiastically.

"Shush, Speed you beast!" she heard, assuming it was John. All his 's's seemed a little slurred to say the least and she wondered what state Peter was in. The two men said goodnight and the next thing she heard was the zip on the tent opening, a whole lot of shuffling around and the zip closing again.

She had her back to him, hearing him getting changed, trying not to react as he talked to himself feeling him lie down, tight to her back, one arm over her middle tucking his hand underneath her side. If she was thinking about it, it wasn't the most comfortable of places right under her ribs and she shift slightly, Peter taking the hint and withdrawing; only to rest it so he was cupping her breast.

Chummy forced her eyes closed and felt a kiss pressed to the back of her neck. There was nothing in it more than affection and as his breathing slowed, she followed him into sleep.

The weather around them, the wind now picking up apace and the rain was starting to lash on the tent roof and whilst she felt really rather quite safe, it was disturbing her sleep. Chummy turned over in Peter's arms only to find him wide awake too.

"What time is it?" she whispered drowsily.

"Two…half past...maybe three " Peter shrugged. He'd been clock watching for at least the past hour or so, a trip to behind a tree as it was too wet and far to walk to the toilet block, the weather and the fact he was freezing cold had not helped in waking him up.

"Did you have a good night?" she asked, turning onto her other side to face him.

"Yes" Peter replied, hands clasped across his chest. "He's an interesting bloke. Bit full of himself but no, we had a good chat".

"Anything in particular?" she asked, quite curious.

"Just how to keep you wife in order. He's had more practice than me!" Peter received a push in the chest for that one but there were some things that they had spoken about that he really did not want to tell her. Things about France, the War, things he knew someone who had been there – and suffered alike – could only relate to. "Just talk, you know".

Chummy nodded. She could tell by his face he wasn't planning on saying anything else and all of a sudden she had to stifle a yawn. "Come here" he said, pulling her closer, wrapping her up in his arms. "See if we can sleep."

They both lay there for a while, still wide awake and he heard her breath out quickly. "This is no good" she said, and with that was up and out of his arms, unzipping the tent.

"You can't go for a walk!" Peter exclaimed, head spinning from the alcohol still in his system as he sat up wondering what on earth she was doing.

"I'm not" she replied, now lying on her front just inside the tent. "I just thought I might watch the world go by for a few minutes".

"There's no world to watch" he replied, shuffling around to lie next to her as she propped her chin up on her hands, staring out at the rain as it tumbled endlessly from the sky. It had not stopped for hours now, but then again, they were camping so they really couldn't expect any different.

"There is" Chummy responded. "There's rain, wind, water, that spider….." she said, pointing across to the arachnid that was strolled over a stone at the entrance to the tent. "Plenty to see".

Peter smiled, turning her face towards him, even though he was verging on thinking she was either going stir crazy from living in a tent, lack of sleep or just loopy anyway. "Here" he said leaning towards her capturing her in a slow kiss. "I know how to make you sleep".

"Hmmmm…." she replied, cynically, not turning down the kiss but still.

"Yes" Peter said, quite innocently."Count sheep".

She just tutted and gently pushed his hand away from her face. "Oh, _I_ know what you were thinking of!" he continued, thoroughly pretending and it was not as though she didn't know he was either. "Reading a book? Some breathing exercises?"

He saw her smile and shake her head, deciding it was actually far too cold down that end of the tent after all and moving to sit cross legged up where they had been unsuccessfully sleeping. "Only one thing for it then" he said, zipping up the tent again and crawling up, sitting side on to her, pulling her slightly forward by the front of her pyjama top; her expecting a kiss that never came.

Instead he slipped his hand between the satin and her skin, pushed through the gap between the buttons, cupping her breast again as the pads of his fingers toyed with her, thumb swirling over her. Her reaction immediately was to not think, but indulge and she closed her eyes putting her arms straight, propping herself up, unconsciously pushing herself forward, but opening her eyes again briefly to see him staring at her.

"What?" she squeaked, seeing him smile and shake his head.

"You" he replied simply. "After everything, the fact you're not afraid anymore". It was also the fact that he could just do that for hours, kiss her and touch her and she'd be sailing off into the clouds. She actually felt like a human being around him; thoughts and feelings that mattered and he was the only person she could be like this with. When they were shut away, just them, Chummy felt she could be the person she wanted to be.

His hand withdrawing so she could move, she leant across and kissed him. "Yes, and it's only because you make me that way".


	10. Chapter 10

"Hello sleepyhead" Peter whispered, seeing his wife stir beside him. After a short nap, he had been awake a while; this time taking a respectable gentlemanly visit to the toilet rather than a tree, and collected them supper from the café on the way back.

He had only brought them toast and tea; his eaten as his efforts at forcing her to wake up were duly dealt with by a sleepy shove away. Mind you, Chummy always liked cold toast so it never mattered. It had been a long, but joyful day and a rather hearty late lunch had been had, as well as an extremely pleasant cream tea, so neither were that hungry.

"It is still raining?" she asked, taking a bite. It had been tipping down for most of the day and she doubted much had changed from their day spend running between the car, shops and cafes, trying not to get a soaking in the process, feeling the air become heavy waiting for a thunderstorm.

"On and off" Peter shrugged. "The sky is black though".

"That's a shame" Chummy considered, pulling a face.

"Why?"

"Well was our last proper day today isn't?" she replied, brushing a crumb or three off her skirt. "I would have liked to have spent the evening sitting out…."

"Well I suppose you'll just have to do with the tent and me for company" Peter replied, crawling over to the tent flap to see if it was still indeed raining as is certainly sounded as thought it was getting worse. "Maybe it will go off" he concluded, not thinking there was a word of truth in his statement.

"Will believe that when I see it" she replied as he lay back down again on his back, taking the almost eaten toast out of her hand as he did. He had brought plenty back so there was some spare.

"Erm…" she replied, looking at her now empty fingers. "Do you mind?!"

"Not really" Peter smiled in response, eating the small corner.

"The things one has to put up with…" Chummy sighed, hearing the more earnest drip from the rain down the side of the tent now and quite glad she was under cover after all.

"You'll cope" he smiled, closing his eyes. The rain, and he might say, cold had woken him up at dawn see her sealed up in her sleeping bag at this sudden schizophrenic change of weather. Not even he was enough to keep her warm last night, nursing a slightly sore head but not so bad to think he couldn't raise himself from horizontal. Sleep had been interrupted last night for good and bad reasons and to be frank, he could do with a few more hours after the miles they had covered today.

A few more hours sleep they certainly got as as soon as she finished her toast, Chummy lay down next to him, arm slung over his waist and promptly fell asleep on his shoulder pulling her sleeping bag with her.

Peter woke again, a good while later, wonder if it that was thunder he just heard? The noise grumbled away in the distance, sounding as though it was a fair few miles away. It was thunder though. A moment later it rumbled again and he pulled her tighter to him. As long as she was here it was fine. Really, it was fine.

"Are you alright?" he heard from his shoulder. Whether he had woken her up or it was the sound of thunder that had dragged her from slumber, he didn't know.

"Yes" Peter replied, cautiously, scowling at the tent roof again as he tried to convince himself.

"I know you don't like it" Chummy responded, wishing she could just take it all away.

Peter sighed. He should be able to get over that now. It's been far too long after all and it _is_ only thunder this time, you know it is. He saw her sit up slightly, propping her chin on his chest so she could see is face properly.

"Look forward, not back" he replied, although she could see that whilst he may have said it, his eyes told her a different story. She reached up to kiss him in support and consolation. It had taken a while for her to realise that she could be his anchor too the amount of time she would spend thinking she might be burden if she thought this way or that and he might get bored or irritated by her, but as odd as it had been, he needed her too. Someone needed her just as she was.

"Do you know I'm now quite glad it's raining at least" she said, thinking perhaps she could find herself a way of diverting the subject away from his worries.

"How did you work that one out?" he asked, affectionately casting his fingers down her hairline.

"Because it means that we can just stay here and talk in peace".

Peter smiled, taking up her hand and winding her fingers into his. "Do you know this reminds me of the old days?"

"Old days?" Chummy replied, wondering how 'old' he meant. She didn't want to see him tense or upset anymore and waited patiently to hear.

"When you used to sneak up to Empson Street to visit. We'd just lie there next to the fire and not even speak". Those days were heaven, just to know she was there and, after their blip as he had now chosen to call it, she would not be going away any time soon, spending more and more time up there. Even the girls had teased that she was practically living in sin with him already; even to the point of her looking for clothes in her wardrobe and realising 'oh, yes, one left that cardigan at Empson Street'. If only the girls knew. His landlady must have done though. "That wasn't even two years ago" she noted, settling back on his shoulder.

"That's true" he sighed, but it really did feel like so much more time had passed. Good time though, time that had been treasured and time that had dissolved so perfectly slowly to now find them almost a year married.

"So are you glad we came?" Peter asked. He personally had thoroughly enjoyed these last few days, shutting out Poplar and London.

"Yes" she smiled, thinking back. "Even with you burning yourself and me falling over!" Her ankle was by and large alright now and the 'burn' had exposed itself to be a rapidly fading pink mark.

Peter laughed quickly. "I am look forward to going home though. We have things to be looking forward to".

"Oh yes" she replied, unable to keep the smile from her face, even though she had her misgivings still. Not so much about his child, because his child would look like him but there would be her own precious little creature who might just love her too. "One day", she said, voice quiet.

He didn't really push her, hearing the hesitance in her voice. Peter wasn't really in the mood to have that discussion this second as he yawned again although Chummy would admit that since their conversation when she found the empty diaphragm case, she had started to wonder properly.

"If you want to have another nap, I don't mind" she offered.

"No, no" Peter replied, drawing his hand up and down her arm. "If I sleep now, I won't sleep later". The touch of his fingers up and down her arm was really quite soothing in every wrong way possible her eyes were closing with each stroke.

"Peter, stop it".

"Oh" he responded, sounding really rather put out and she felt the loss of his touch far too much. "Alright".

"I didn't mean it like that" she replied quickly sitting up so she could look him in the eye properly without twisting her neck. She took up his hand; the one that had been around her shoulder, wrapping it in hers. "I didn't mean to sound snippy. You know I don't mind you touching me, but you do that and I'm asleep too and then one is no good to anyone".

He smiled and sat up. "I won't then" he said, tipping her chin to kiss her, ever so gently pulling at her lips as he heard her sigh. It made him smile and could almost take that every single time as permission.

"Why does one always get oneself in these positions?" she said, rolling her eyes at herself, feeling his hand go to the back of her head so she wouldn't knock herself out as she was gently pushed back down on the ground sheet.

"Do you want me to answer that?" It was muffled but she heard the question perfectly well as his weight landed on her.

"Not really" Chummy replied as she wrapped her arms tighter around his back. She knew she would only get a facetious answer so it was more a case of just indulge and did they really need all of this small talk now?

"Now this does remind me of the old days..." Peter began as he felt her relax, pulling her knee over his hip, mind flooded with just how wonderful it felt to just nestle close to her, even on those days they both knew that those intimate moments could not take that step forward. Until she decided to change their minds for them and those days too were vivid as though they were yesterday.

To her though, those days seemed long ago or even of a different person, remembering all the discoveries she was making about herself and she didn't just mean the times she would spend under the covers with him. Chummy felt him flinch; palm momentarily tightening on her side on its way to her hip as there was a definite flash of lightening above them.

"Should we really be under a tree next to a large body of water if it's going to do that?" she inquired, not wanting to alter the mood but as much this could be leading to fireworks of an intimate kind, she did not want to find them fried either. But his weight on her? It made her feel so safe; wondering how anyone could feel any different as she was buried underneath him and she really, really did not want to move.

"It'll be fine" Peter replied, finding her neck again, needing to be distracted by far more worthy pursuits than worrying about a million to one chance they could get hit by lightening and perhaps more importantly what memories were stabbing him in the chest. She received a kiss again; him just happy it seemed to kiss her. That had been well practised in the 'old days' too; even quick kisses on the cheek she relished, swiftly done hoping that a Nun wouldn't see or those deep languid ones that seemed to be saved for his lodgings when the door was shut.

Her hand wound into his hair, casting pads of her fingers over his skin; the other forcing its way between them to the neck of shirt. Another clap of thunder and yet again, she felt him tense, wanting to pay attention to her but what was nagging in the back of his mind was breaking his concentration. Thunder and that empty case sitting in his bag.

"Do you know what I think?" She said suddenly.

"Pray tell" he replied, his shirt falling from her grip as he moved shifting down to plant open mouthed kisses on her collarbone.

"When we go back" she replied. "I think we forget about our agreement".

He snapped his head up. "What agreement?"

Chummy tried to think how to phrase it. "That….well when I get home the first thing one is going to do is go up to the bathroom and the you-know-what will get put in its case and stay there".

He raised both eyebrows, having harboured some thoughts that, with all that went on, she might just want to put it off more. "Really, Camilla?"

"Really" she replied. "So hurry up! You were here…" she smiled, tapping her collarbone, seeing him laugh and shake his head.

_Camping with her had been fun but going home would be even better.  
_

FIN


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